


This Bird's Gonna Fly

by poisontaster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ficlet, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-25
Updated: 2007-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:50:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4911304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short writing experiment.  <i>Dean gets out on a Thursday.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	This Bird's Gonna Fly

Dean gets out on a Thursday.

Sam gets the oil changed, the tires rotated and cleans the Impala inside and out. He drinks way too much coffee and the combination of the caffeine and the butterflies in his stomach make him shaky and kind of sick. He's too excited to eat, though.

He makes sure Nicola gets a good breakfast; pumpkin-cinnamon pancakes with stewed apples on the side. He burns the first couple of them, too jittery, but the rest turn out okay and Nicola rolls her eyes at him but she eats them all.

She takes a long time in the bathroom and then in her room, even though he knows she laid out her clothes the night before. She comes out in an entirely different outfit, one half of her hair braided and the other half trailing messily tangled over her shoulder. "I hate my hair and I look like shit…"

"Language," Sam warns.

Nicola sighs deeply and plops back down in the kitchen chair so recently vacated. "I'm not going."

"Oh, you're going." Sam crosses his arms. "You look beautiful and if you go get your comb, we'll figure out something to do with your hair. But it's his first day out and you know he's going to want to see you."

Nicola makes a face but she goes back into her bedroom. "Do you think I should wear the brown shirt instead?" she calls. "You say it brings out my eyes."

"I think you look great in what you have on and if you don't hurry up, we're going to be late. Get a move on."

***

Nicola puts her hand in his while they wait. "Quit fidgeting," she scolds, casting a sharp eye at him.

Sam rolls his shoulders and tries to be still. It's not easy. He shouldn't have had that last cup of coffee. When the gates roll ponderously open and Dean steps through them, Sam is struck by two things: how much pure silver is sprinkled through Dean's hair like snowflakes and the heavy breadth of his arms and shoulders.

It's not that he hasn't seen Dean. Of course he has; he's been up to the prison every weekend. But this is his first chance to see Dean in the real world and in good lighting. He wouldn't think so, but it makes a difference.

Dean is no longer penned, caged. Dean is free.

Now that the moment's here, Sam's feet seem glued to the pavement. His chest hurts, heart beating against his ribs like a fist.

Fortunately, Nicola has no such problems and she breaks free of his loose grip to run across the short strip of pavement that separates them to throw herself into Dean's arms. "Dad!"

Dean's smile is huge, enough to eclipse the sun as he drops his stuff and twirls Nicola around in a circle.

"You look great, Dad! I can't believe it's you! Sam's going to cook dinner. He got steaks and everything!"

Sam finally unsticks himself enough to come forward and scoop up all Dean's meager belongings from the ground. When he straightens, Dean's right next to him, Nicola still in his arms. Their grins are exactly the same. "Hey," Dean says, his voice low and slightly burred, like he hasn't used it in a while. He nudges Sam with his shoulder.

"Hey," Sam answers and bumps him right back.


End file.
